


The one with the Hair!kink

by Mitsuhachi



Series: T'sara loevs Amanda [1]
Category: Star Trek (2009)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-21
Updated: 2011-04-21
Packaged: 2017-10-18 10:59:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,241
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/188238
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mitsuhachi/pseuds/Mitsuhachi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Amanda is having some trouble adjusting to life on Vulcan. Her wife takes some time to reassure her. For the kinkmeme prompt: <i>Girl!Sarek likes Amanda's hair and takes every opportunity to brush, wash, play, and style it.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	The one with the Hair!kink

Amanda's hair curled, wet with human sweat and catching, cloud-like, on what little breeze found its way into the courtyard. The people of T'sara's clan--most of the Vulcans on this continent, for that matter--had heavy, black, utterly straight hair. It never glittered with hints of blood-copper and gold in Alam'ak's light, never fell in wisps around their faces or curled like a lover's fingers around their necks.

T'sara watched, enchanted, as Amanda sank into the shade of an indukah tree, dipping her toes into the tiny pond beside it. She swept a hand through the curls touching her flushed cheek, trying again to tuck them beneath her veil with a little frown. "I'm so sorry, love. I look a mess--everyone here is so elegant and here I am like...this." She shrugged a little, looking down at her feet with a sound of some emotion T'sara couldn't name. Drops of water were clinging to the hem of her dress, catching the sunlight just as the sweat did on her long neck so that she looked wet all over, some sort of water-spirit very lost in Vulcan's deserts... "You must be so ashamed of me."

The confusion was so profound that for a long moment all T'sara could do was blink down at her mate in silence. Amanda curled her shoulders in on herself, looking suddenly fragile in a way she'd never considered her human to be. "Shame is a human emotion," she heard her own voice say, watched Amanda's shoulders tense. A thick lock of brown hair fell out of the veil, and T'sara's fingers twitched towards it before she could check herself. "To feel shame over one's chosen mate is...most highly illogical," she tried, but Amanda only ducked her head further, letting her veil hide her face and T'sara recognized a moment of utter bewilderment. She felt herself grope blindly for some logic to appeal to her mate, to make her understand--but the tiny, choked-off sound Amanda made cut off all considerations. It was...completely unacceptable that her mate make such noises, and T'sara knelt on the rocks next to her without another thought.

The veil came away so quickly in her hands that the pins clattered to the ground without them, splashing quietly and immediately forgotten. Amanda's hair fell in a mass of soft curls, framed the marks of tears on exotically pink cheeks. It was hard to breathe, looking at her, the emotion so unrestrained, so innocently wanton that T'sara could hardly stand it. Two fingers came up to brush, feather-light, across Amanda's wet lips, to trace down the tear-tracks and then follow the line of her jaw back into lush curls.

The tiny twists and braids of the traditional Vulcan style Amanda had fought her hair into that morning lay kinked and half-undone; T'sara slowly kissed her way through the soft mess, gently untangling them, pulling the jeweled pins free and letting the braids unwind into little waves. "T'sara, what--"

"I find," T'sara began, forcing her voice calm with some difficulty, "that I do not consider your previous attire fully aesthetically pleasing." Her hands were buried in the damp curls up to her palms, silky strands caught between her fingers while little wisps tickled at her wrists, and T'sara had to bite back a groan of arousal. "I do not believe that it...suits you," and she pressed a human kiss to Amanda's lips because she refused to move her hands. Except that if she did, she could guide Amanda down to lay back against the stone, trail a hand down her neck and pull each of the little clasps of her over-tunic open across her collar-bone, her breasts, the tiny curve of her belly. The heavy wool of her under-dress was soaked through, and the little sigh that Amanda gave as T'sara exposed it to the air betrayed how uncomfortable she had to have been. "Completely unsuitable," she confirmed, nodding to herself slightly before contemplatively ripping the garment open in a straight line down the front. The pale skin glittered, Amanda's back arching as she tried to sit up with a small gasp of surprise.

Amanda opened her mouth--to argue, likely, because clearly her human emotions were clouding her ability to see that T'sara was right. "We will have to procure garments of summer-silk for you, I think," T'sara explained, dipping one hands into the pond so she could pour the cool water across Amanda's belly. "I have seen it, in the city--silk so fine you could be covered neck to ankles in the fashion of my people and be as cool as you are now." The water slid down Amanda's breasts, the nipples growing tight so that T'sara couldn't stop herself from brushing over it with the tip of one finger.

"Because I have not chosen one of my people for my mate," And the little frown was gone, Amanda starting to look up at her as though she understood. "I chose the Earth-woman Amanda Grayson, who came to me out of San Francisco fog and loves the sound of rain."

"T'sara, you know I--"

"I know, my wife." The cool kiss Amanda pressed to her lips, wet with the slick pressure of her tongue, was soft with some new, far more acceptable human emotion, and T'sara pulled the drifting curls back over Amanda's shoulder to let the soft ends play over her breasts. "I prefer your hair thus, ashayam. It is...most, remarkably pleasing." T'sara couldn't quite meet Amanda's eyes--embarrassed by the display, though she couldn't admit it--but could hardly miss the way Amanda turned her head to nuzzle temptingly against the pads of T'sara's fingers.

“I love you,” Amanda said finally. T’sara allowed the corners of her lips to twitch upwards just the slightest bit where they were pressed against the bare skin of her mate’s shoulder.

“You have always been very emotional.” T’sara pressed one last kiss to Amanda’s lips and then stood. The stirrings of arousal settled low in the cradle of her hips, but she could already see Amanda’s skin beginning to burn, and she forced herself to take off her thin over-robe instead, to wrap it around Amanda’s naked shoulders and not drag kisses down her side to the moisture slicking her thighs. “It is not wise for you to stay so long in the sun, my wife.” Amanda stood, but only to lean in and lick tiny patches of cool wet on T’sara’s fingers, and T’sara had to suppress a shudder of want. “You will accompany me in returning to the compound, and we will address the issue of your attire.” The wind caught a few loose strands of Amanda’s hair, blew them teasingly against T’sara’s cheek. “And…if you would permit me…” It was remarkably difficult to speak coherently when one’s throat was tight with arousal and one’s mate was smiling in that particularly dangerous way no one but Amanda ever seemed to show.

“Come inside and brush my hair for me, won’t you?” Amanda’s eyes gleamed, and she lifted the heavy fall of her hair towards T’sara. “You’ve made quite a mess of it.” T’sara groaned, fingers tightening reflexively around the robe as she pulled Amanda even closer.

“I believe it may become even more ‘messed up’ very shortly, my wife,” T’sara growled, and the sound of Amanda’s laughter followed them up the path to the house.


End file.
